REVIEW: Kinder, a ry presentation, Prague Fringe 2026 ★★★★★

With a burst of electricity, drag artist Goodie Proctor greets audience with tight quips as they frolic around in cunty little German lederhosen. Proctor makes a promise to us “Soon you will know me”, a promise which would be kept and exceeded throughout the show as we uncover the child beneath the masked white face.

Following a reworking of the show’s first act, Kinder written and performed by Ryan Stewart opens as a comedic and tantalising drag show with polished lip syncing performances and the art of shade, but our setting begins to dawn on us upon reveal of protestors hanging around outside the venue. The dressing room is kitted out with a mirror of memories, boxes and costumes. It is both a sanctuary for personal expression and a space for transformation; a safe place and a closet. As Goodie Proctor dashes around attempting to find an act for an unexpected drag reading booking for a group of children, they are forced to confront their own distain and apprehension for the little ones. 

The arc of the show is set up a little like a villain origin story turned transformation to hero narrative. The characterisation of Goodie Proctor is thought through as an artist with sharp edges, cackles and resentment. Horror elements from flashing lights on face paint to laughter lit with a torch and the sense that Proctor is impulsive enough to do anything gives us uneasy laughter and rippling excitement. Through gripped teeth, Proctor tells stories of their own childhood. The comedy of the piece sits well as a masking tool that becomes even more interesting as the tone shifts throughout the second act. 

Stewart has written a nuanced piece of work that creates parallels between their German roots and modern day fascism. While I don’t always love work that preaches its message, the teachings weaved within feel a lot like an aggrieved story time, fitting to its core narrative. Stewart has found a way to unravel for us the rules of society, the lies we tell ourselves and others without creating a one-sided essay. The writing is self-aware and witty, carefully structured around historical and current frameworks without feeling shoe-horned in. 

While Goodie Proctor grapples with their own upbringing and their difficulty being a child, we begin to know them in a greater capacity. We understand the grievances they have developed with children before Proctor spells it out for us, though their statements hits equally, “You can be good without God”. For many of us watching this performance, we would be lucky in this era not to harbour at least some fear of the systems that prioritise wealth and power over the well-being of ordinary people. Proctor exemplifies the complexity of these fears, the result of pitting vulnerable groups against each other. 

In the show’s conclusion, Goodie Proctor teaches us new words, one in particular is memorable. KIN; a family. The title takes on a few possible meanings. Kin and gender combined, the German Kinder meaning children and the English kinder meaning let’s all be a bit fucking nicer to each other. The important take away of this teaching is unity. Make believe stories and systems that corrupt minds and dictate expression have no place in interrupting the growing process of a child in development “They need a proverbial village. They need kin”. 

While many would say that there is a debate over children interacting with queer people and spaces, I feel that this play suggests otherwise. This is a play about the guise of protection, the convenient sculpting of a debate and the painful experience of being. Goodie Proctor could never be a villain. Proctor is just a person that was once a child hurt by the same systems that made them the enemy. 

Kinder is gripping, quick, intensely visual and substantial. Its rhythmic poetic pace and sharp staging is beautifully executed by director Tiah Bullock. The Kinder team have created a work of art that melds together a powerful message with an engaging drag character experience and Ryan Stewart leaves onstage a pile of wigs and a pearl of wisdom, a warning and a sense of hope that the queer community will continue to make art with or without threat. 

Recommended Drink: An Aperol Spritz- low sugar, high visibility and they are not going to stain the dance floor.

Performances of Kinder have now concluded at Prague Fringe 2026.